Huh?
by SamanthaLisaWalkerfan101
Summary: Title really says it all. Non-serious story. Related to Chuck in some degree.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: All words in italics are the characters speaking. The words written in regular type are the parts of the "story". Enjoy reading and please review. You can even call it horrible if you want. **

* * *

Once upon a time, there were three little pickles. And they all lived happily in a small town on the outskirts of a town far, far away. One day, the pickles decided to take a walk. On their walk they came across a hungry cow. The cow looked at the pickles for a long, long time before mooing and walking off. The pickles all let out a deep breath. They had thought they were going to be eaten. But then the youngest pickle, Dill, became offended and yelled after the cow, "What?! Me and my brothers aren't good enough for your royal cowship to eat?!". Of course, the cow didn't hear him.

_Um, what in the world is that?_

_It's our story._

_That is absolutely nothing like our story. We_—

_Can I try again?_

_Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out._

Okay, presenting Oxyclean! Today you can order it for the special low, low price of—

_Why Oxyclean? Our story has nothing to do with Oxyclean._

_Hello, we're pickles and our juice stains clothes._

_No, it doesn't._

_I'm trying to sell a product, here. And so it does to._

_Can you just get on with the story?_

_Fine._

"Good morning, Charlie," said the three Charlie's Pickles.

"Good morning, Pickles," replied Charlie from his radio box thingy.

_Charlie's Pickles and radio box thingy?!_

_Do you want me to tell the story or not?_

_Just get on with it. The real story._

Yo, yo, yo. P-Sizzle in the hiz 'ouse. Now this is pickle story. I'm rapping 'cause I'm tryin' not to bore ya. There once were three little pickle bros. They wuz all lined up in a straight little row. One pickle fell down and broke his crown and it ain't gonna rain tomorrow.

_What was that?_

_Rap._

_I don't think so. I mean, even Dr. Seuss could do better. _

_But I tried._

_Well, try again._

_How about pop? Can I try that genre?_

_If you think you can._

'Cause this is a pick-le, pick-le night! And no one's gonna save you from the food that's about to strike. You know, it's a pick-le, pick-le night! You're fighting your hunger on this pick-le night!

_That was just plain weird._

_Can weird be plain?_

_Will you please just stop being smart or stupid and get on with the actual story?_

_Then I'm gonna try country music. _

_Why?_

_They have the best stories._

_Whatever. Just hurry up._

Right now, he's probably in the grocery store taking a jar of pickles off of the clearance shelf. Right now, he's probably paying at the register thinkin' to himself, "I wish I had a beer.". Right now, he probably walkin' to his car, but he don't know....that I threw the ketchup outta the house and I wrecked his girlfriend's new blouse. I ran around in circles acting all cra-aa-zy. But that's what he gets for being mean to me. Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.

_You just totally ruined that song for me._

_Nuh-uh, it was a Carrie Underwood song. So, therefore, it cannot ever be completely ruined._

_Well, I'll never think of it the same way again. That's for sure. _

_Why not?_

_Because you twisted a song about love and lies and revenge into a song about_—

_Love and lies and revenge....with pickles. _

_Well, I like Carrie's version better. _

_I think everyone likes Carrie's version better._

_Why are you guys talking about Carrie Underwood? She is not relevant to this story in any way._

_Sorry, Devon. _

_Yeah, sorry. We just got __**carrie**__d away. Dill, finish your story. And this time make sure it's __your__ story. _

_You got it, Dave._

Hut, hut, hike! He passes the ball. It's flying overhead. Is he gonna catch it? It's falling, falling, and....he caught it! Touchdown! Titans win! And the crowd goes wild! Yaaahhhhh!

_And that was football. Why can't you just tell the story without mucking it up?_

_I'm just trying to find what I'm good at. You know, mom always said that I was the talented one._

_Apparently, she didn't mean in telling stories. _

_Hey!_

_Just get on with it....before I die, please._

_Okay, okay....but do you think if I went on Star Search they could tell me what I'm good at? I'm mean, they helped Britney Spears. And the host seems like a nice guy. _

_I think they cancelled Star Search a long time ago. Besides, since you're so fond of singing, maybe you should try out for American Idol._

_Nah, that show went downhill after Carrie won._

_True, true. But.....hey, you're supposed to be telling the story!_

_Fine._

It was a dark and gloomy night and there were three dark figures huddled in the far corner of the hut. They were whispering, but anyone listening couldn't hear a thing. Ten minutes passed without the scene changing, but then someone opened the front door. The three huddled masses rose and shouted, "Surprise! Happy birthday!". The end.

_I give up. You can't tell our story._

_Then you tell it, Dave._

_No._

_Devon?_

_Nuh-uh._

_Ugh, will someone please tell the story?_

_I will._

_Who are you?_

_My name is Bill._

_You're a rock._

_And you guys are pickles. I won't tell the story if you can't agree to be nice to me._

_We'll be nice! Just please, tell the story._

_Okay, then. _

It was a rainy evening. And there was a man. A man who lived alone. He was kind of a shut-in. Almost never leaving his house. The townspeople mocked him for his genius. They just didn't understand. He decided that night to perform an experiment. He shoved a metal fork into an electrical outlet. Of course, he got shocked badly and had to go to the hospital. But as soon as he left, the pickle that was on his plate for dinner suddenly came to life! The pickle, it was Dill, was curious and went to inspect the fork. And he got shocked as well. So his pickle brothers, Devon and Dave, picked him up and stuck him in the refrigerator to heal. But he didn't and when the man came back home, he found a fried pickle. The first of it's kind. And he then patented the product and became very rich.

_Thank you!_

_No problem. Call me if you ever need my services again. Remember, my name is Bill. _

The end........


	2. Chapter 2

Two little girls were lying in bed with their mother listening to a bedtime story being told. Now that it was over, they had a few comments and questions for the storyteller.

"Bill," began Chuck and Sarah's four-year old, and oldest, child, "that was a weird story."

"You asked for me to tell you a story about pickles," said Bill. "What did you expect, Heather?"

"Veggie Tales," answered Chuck and Sarah's second, and last, child. "You know, like Larry."

"Larry was a cucumber, Natty," Bill explained.

"What's the difference?" the two girls asked.

"Cucumbers are used in salads," Bill started, "and pickles are cucumbers, but they're soaked in vinegar."

"Why does that make them different?" asked Natty.

"Well, girls," said Bill, "vinegar is a type of chemical acid and for cucumbers it's basically alcohol."

"So pickles are drunk cucumbers?" asked Sarah, who had been listening to the story with the girls.

"Yep," answered Bill. "Why? Don't believe me?"

"No, I don't," Sarah said. "That's just absurd."

"Right," said Bill, sounding unconvinced. "And talking to a rock isn't?"

After a minute or two of silence, Sarah said, "Fine, I see your point."

"Thank you," Bill said.

"Mommy, do drunk people tell funny stories?" asked Heather.

"Why do you ask that?" asked Sarah.

"Because the pickle story was funny and apparently they were drunk," Heather explained. "Also, whenever Uncle Morgan is drunk, he tells funny stories."

"Yes," Sarah said, making a mental note to yell at Morgan, "drunk people tell funny stories....and the truth, but you don't want to ever get drunk."

"Why not?" asked Natty.

"Because you will wake up hungover," said Sarah, "and more than likely in a...."

"Pickle?" Bill asked.

"Yes," Sarah said. "A pickle. Is that why people refer to problems as pickles?"

"No," said Bill, "they do that because pickles are usually troublemakers and so they're problematic."

Sarah gave Bill a look that said she didn't buy it.

"What?" Bill asked. "I'm just the rock with facts. It's not like I make this stuff up."

"I wouldn't be too sure," Sarah said. "Girls, it's time to go to sleep now."

"Awwww, but, Mom!" the girls protested.

"Girls, it's bedtime," Sarah told them. "And so, you must go to sleep."

"Can't they stay up just a little while longer?" Bill asked. "Please?"

"No, now I have to call Chuck to come take you to your room," Sarah said.

"Can't he sleep with us, Mommy?" asked the girls, giving her the look they had inherited from their father. But Sarah knew that look too well to be fooled.

"Nope, not tonight. Now, Chuck!" Sarah almost suddenly yelled to her husband who was not in the room.

"What is it?" asked Chuck from his and Sarah's bedroom.

"Time to take Bill to his room!" answered Sarah.

"Why do I always have to put Bill in his room?" asked Chuck, walking towards the girls' room.

"Because I always have to put the kids to bed," Sarah said softly, because Chuck had just entered the room.

"It's not my fault they never go to sleep with me," said Chuck.

"Yes, it is," Sarah said.

"How?" asked Chuck, utterly confused.

"They know that you won't make them go to sleep," said Sarah. "Face it, honey, you're a softy."

"Yeah, but that's why you married me, right?" Chuck asked.

"That was one reason," answered Sarah.

"What were the others?" asked Chuck.

"Hmm, some of them I can't say in front of the girls," Sarah said, smiling.

"Fine," Chuck said. "Come on, Bill."

Chuck picked Bill up off of the dresser.

"Say goodnight to the girls," Chuck said, holding Bill out to his daughters.

""Night, Heather," Bill said. ""Night, Natty."

"'Night, Bill!" the girls practically yelled.

"Ha, I'm glad we only have two," Chuck said, "because I think if e had more I would be deaf right now."

"Chuck?" Sarah kind of asked.

"Yeah, honey?" Chuck asked.

"Um, well," Sarah began, "I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" asked Chuck.

"I'm pregnant," Sarah announced. It was easier than the first two announcements.

"What does that mean, Mommy?" asked Heather, putting off Chuck's excitement.

"It means that you guys are going to have a new sister," Sarah answered.

"Or brother," Chuck said. "It could be a boy."

"Yeah, it could," Sarah said, "but I have a feeling it's a girl. And my feelings are almost always right."

By this time, Bill could no longer hold in his joy and he started wiggling around and rock-jumping for joy.

"I'm so excited!" Bill exclaimed. "Another baby!"

"Sarah," Chuck said, his excitement again put off, "he just peed on me."

"Go wash your hands," Sarah instructed, getting up from the bed and taking Bill from Chuck's cupped hands.

"Okay," Chuck said, walking to the bathroom across the hall.

"And this is why we put clothes on Bill," Sarah told her girls.

"He won't let me!" Chuck said from the bathroom.

"They hurt my baby-making parts," Bill complained.

"How do rocks make babies?" asked Natty.

"Well, when two rocks love each other very much—" Bill began, but was interrupted.

"And that's _my_ cue to take you to your room," Sarah said. "Goodnight, girls."

"'Night, Mommy," the girls said, and Sarah turned out the lights and left the room.

_**THE END**_


End file.
